On the afternoon of April Fool’s Day our telephone rang. On the other end was a physician in Michigan who told me that my mother-in-law was hospitalized and in not too good a shape. Through Orbitz we were able to secure passage (at a profane cost) and a rental car. Next morning we flew from Portland to Detroit then drove to the little town some 200 miles to the north.

The doctor told us that a cancer near her gall bladder had spread to, and invaded, her liver. There was little could be done and at 89 years old she really didn’t want much done. Mom was awake, alert and oriented. She was well aware of her predicament and wished only to go home to die. Home was a small farmhouse some 15 miles outside of the little town.

Before she was discharged the Home Health folks came by and wanted to set up a schedule whereby they would come around her house every other day and tend to her needs. She assured them and us that two years ago she had enrolled in an insurance policy that would take care of those sorts of things. Home Health would not be necessary. We bundled her into the rental car and headed for home.

She wanted to ride shotgun and asked me to drive slowly. She held her arm out of the window all the way, the crisp Michigan air nipping at her hand and arm, her face filled with happiness, resignation and solace. Her eyes darted from side to side as she took in every view of landscape and building. It was her last look. She knew it and we knew it, but it was never mentioned.

Settled in the unkempt house, we went about the business of contacting the insurance company. Undoubtedly mom never once read the fine print and undoubtedly she was never told that her $32.00/month policy didn’t kick in until she had been bedridden for 90 days. That another elderly person had been taken advantage of kept us fuming most of the evening. The next morning we contacted Home Health and set up a visiting schedule of Tuesday, Thursday and Saturday.

Over the next few days mom, enthroned in her death bed, directed her daughter to this picture or that doily. In time the day of our return flight arrived. The evening before we had decided that I would stay with mom in Michigan and my wife would come back to Oregon. We were both RNs but we played our lives a little differently. I had done my twenty years and retired from the State. She had a couple years to go. I was working part-time for a friend of ours and in a telephone conversation he encouraged me to stay in Michigan as long as needed.

I’ve always loved my mother-in-law. After her husband died we took her along on cruises to the Carribean and Alaska. She came to visit in Oregon every year until health issues got in the way. That morning my wife and her mother spent their last hour together. She drove the rental car back to Detroit, stopping in Ann Arbor to ship the two boxes of pictures, doilies and whatnot, and flew home. The airline would not refund any portion of my ticket in spite of the circumstances.

Mom’s only fear was pain. She had kept it under control with Ibuprofen but within a few days the pain became unmanageable. I talked to her doctor and he sent out the folks from Hospice. They initiated a morphine clysis and a few hours later she was comfortable.

I spent my days preparing meals she never ate and fooling around with the rabbit ears on her old television. She only received two channels, NBC and CBS. The reception drifted between snow and flurries. There was no cable in her house and no computer. She had one of those old 60's style credenza stereos which picked up a couple of country stations but the turntable still worked. Her small collection of records included Frank Sinatra, Tony Bennett, Edith Piaf, Rosemary Clooney and Tommy Dorsey. Her newest album was The Kingston Trio Live at the Hungry I.

During the hour when the Home Health nurses aides were there I would drive moms’ car to town and pick up a few provisions. I stopped by the library and asked about using their internet connections. I was unable to without proper identification which included a Michigan driver’s license. So much for that. My wife called daily and I thought about asking her to put some sort of note on Blogstream but her computer literacy begins with Start and ends with spider solitaire. So much for that.

Days became weeks and April became May. Mom slept at long intervals and became increasingly irritated that she kept waking up. She reduced her already limited intake to ice chips and prayed aloud for an end to it all. I kept lotion on her arms and legs and kept her bottom clean and dry. By the middle of the month she gave up the ghost and lapsed into a coma. I missed the middle-of-the-night talks we had and the family secrets she shared. I still talked to her as I turned her side to side and maybe she heard. The day before Memorial Day her body finally quit.

On July 24, 1974, a drifting serial killer crossed my widowed mother’s path in Jacksonville Beach, Florida. The taking of her life denied me the opportunity to love and care for her in her final days. For 32 years I carried that pain, that resentment, that anger, that hatred. I hope my mother knows how much I loved her. I was too young and too busy and too self-consumed to tell her as often as I should have. I hope my mother-in-law knows of the major contribution she had in my life at the end of hers. I have been blessed and such is the poetry of life.
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may I take this opportunity to thank you all for the many private messages I received during my unexpected absence. I was truly overwhelmed and humbled.